<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Twizzlers by Hannah_CTWK</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459376">Twizzlers</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_CTWK/pseuds/Hannah_CTWK'>Hannah_CTWK</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Candy, Gen, Hijacking, I needed a good whump fic so here we are, Injury, Malcolm Bright Whump, One Shot, Whump</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:54:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29459376</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannah_CTWK/pseuds/Hannah_CTWK</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Malcolm's desire to find his favorite candy on the way to a crime scene causes him and Gil to take a detour neither of them saw coming. </p>
<p>AKA I had writers block and needed to write something fun. </p>
<p>BTHB Square: Hijacking.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Twizzlers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts">ProcrastinatingSab</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What part of your contract stipulates that we need to stop for Twizzlers around every crime scene?”</p>
<p>“I’m performing a valuable service Gil. You need to keep your blood sugar up too. When you think about it, I’m looking after your health!”</p>
<p>“Kid, one of these days I’m gonna make you take the train.”</p>
<p>“Stations have Twizzlers, right?” Malcolm shrugs indifferently. “I can work with that.”</p>
<p>The Lieutenant sighs and resigns himself to keeping an eye out for a bodega or food stand. They are on their way to the scene of a murder on Long Island, the mayor has roped Major Crimes in for another high profile case. Malcolm couldn’t sit still, his fingers tapping on his legs as his keen eyes searched for an opportunity to pick up his favorite snack.</p>
<p>“Over there! The deli should have some. Or the lunch bar.” Malcolm points to a row of food stores selling sandwiches to cold cuts. Gil pulls over to an empty parking lane and Malcolm jumps out before the Le Mans even rolls to a stop. He surveys the neighbourhood as he won’t be waiting long enough to do anything else. The street is showing signs of life as the late morning crowd begin to trickle into the streets and businesses. A quick glance out the side window finds Malcolm chatting jovially to the staff inside, waving his treasured vines around excitedly. One final hand raise and the profiler makes his way towards the exit. Gil’s so focused on his partner that he misses the shouts from down the street. A young white man in a basketball hoodie and jeans is bolting towards them, two cops hot on his heels.</p>
<p>Malcolm is looking behind him as he steps into the street, straight into the fleeing man. They crash together, wool suit mixing with cheap fleece and denim. A screwdriver hits the ground with a clatter, and Malcolm lays on the floor, dazed for a moment. Gil opens his door to start checking if everyone is okay when the young man recovers first and scrabbles to retrieve the screwdriver. Before Gil can react he’s pulled Malcolm into his arms as a hostage.</p>
<p>“You with him?” The man shouts at Gil, all while glancing down the street to check where the patrol officers are. They’ve slowed at the sight of Malcolm dazed in his arms, the screwdriver aimed squarely under his jaw.</p>
<p>“Yes, Malcolm is with me.” Gil needs to personalise Malcolm to the man so he won’t do anything drastic. “Can I have my friend back please? He has nothing to do with this.”</p>
<p>Malcolm is still struggling to get his bearings, as the man thinks it over. Sensing he’s out of time he nods to Gil’s car. “This yours?”</p>
<p>“Yes, we drove here. If you need it, it’s yours.” Gil fishes out the keys from his pocket and jingles them enticingly. Although it pains him to offer up his Crown Vic to a criminal, keeping Malcolm in one piece was more important.</p>
<p>The guy scoffs at the suggestion. “No way, that thing probably drives like shit. No, you can drive me out of here. Get in.”</p>
<p>Gil glances over at the beat cops down the street who both have their weapons up and ready to fire. The distance is too far away for a taser or pepper spray, so there are two pistols aimed at Malcolm and the suspect. The suspect is dwarfed by Malcolm’s frame and coat, neither would have a clear shot. He shakes his head and sighs in resignation for the second time that morning. “Okay. Just don’t hurt anyone.”</p>
<p>“Grab the door.” Hoodie orders. Gil sidles over slowly to yank the old heavy door open, and steps back before Malcolm is pushed into the backseat with the man following immediately afterwards shouting “GO, GO, GET IN!”</p>
<p>The Lieutenant rushes around to the driver’s door as the patrol officers begin to run toward the vehicle. They make it to the passenger doors but misjudge the force needed to open the door, and the handles slip back as Gil jumps into the driver’s seat and squeals away from the sidewalk.</p>
<p>One they’re a few hundred feet away from the deli Gil risks a glance in the rear-view mirror. Their captor has his arm around Malcolm, the screwdriver now resting on his chest. The profiler was now aware of his situation, and Gil could see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out a way to talk his way out of this.</p>
<p>Gil needed to get a word in before Malcolm got himself stabbed.</p>
<p>“So, any idea where we’re going?” he asks.</p>
<p>“Both hands on the steering wheel. If you have a phone I want it. Now.”</p>
<p>Gil retrieves his phone and lifts it over his shoulder. It’s snatched out of his hand and thrown to the opposite end of the back seat Malcolm is sitting in.</p>
<p>“Yours too.” Hoodie opens his palm out expectantly.</p>
<p>“Oh, ah, I don’t have a phone.” Malcolm lies.</p>
<p>There’s no warning before the screwdriver is jammed into Malcolm’s thigh. Malcolm’s face loses any trace of pallor and a screeching cry rips its way out of his throat. Crimson blood dribbles up and over the metal like a slow fountain, staining the grey wool as it seeps into the weave.</p>
<p>“Bullshit you don’t have a phone, don’t lie to me.” Malcolm’s hand digs into his pocket and hands over his cell with a tremor. It is thrown just as carelessly out of both of their grasps.</p>
<p>“I really need to know where we’re going. Can you give me an idea?” Gil tries again.</p>
<p>“South. Just head south. To the ferry. Don’t try anything funny or that screwdriver’s gonna find another home.”</p>
<p>“I’m Gil, this is Malcolm. Have you got a name we can call you by?”</p>
<p>“Jason. You can call me Jason.” Malcolm was a hundred percent certain the name was false, but it was better than nothing.</p>
<p>Malcolm winces and places his hands either side of the wound, hoping to staunch the bleeding. After a minute the blood trail slows, and Malcolm feels safe enough to try and remove the implement. His hand reaches up for the handle before a kick to his injured leg stops him.</p>
<p>“Did I say you could take that out?” Jason sneers.</p>
<p>“No. No you didn’t. Sorry. Won’t happen again.” Malcolm grits out as he breathes through the lancing pain shooting up his leg.</p>
<p>“It’s a shame. You’re hot when you’re not in pain. Hmm?” Jason raises a hand to Malcolm’s cheek and rubs his thumb over his captive’s stubble. Malcolm freezes and repeats his daily affirmation in his head as a way to keep calm. It’s a display of power, nothing more. Their captor laughs as he pulls his hand away and nudges Malcolm in jest, ignoring his sharp intake of breath at the jostling.</p>
<p>They travel in silence for a while, and Gil’s instinct to try and gain some more intel causes him to break the silence.</p>
<p>“So what was happening back there?”</p>
<p>“Those stupid cops don’t know what happened. Doesn’t matter anyway. Just keep driving.”</p>
<p>At that moment the CB radio in Gil’s car crackles to life, and JT’s jovial voice booms over the channel. “Yo, where you at boss? The body’s going cold. What’s your ETA?”  </p>
<p>Gil closes his eyes for a moment and curses himself for not turning it off sooner. Jason tenses as his mind works through all the options to the most logical conclusion. He yanks the screwdriver out of Malcolm’s leg and jabs it threateningly in Gil’s direction, blood spraying on the leather as he waves it around.</p>
<p>“Don’t answer that. You guys cops too?”</p>
<p>Malcolm can only manage a groan so Gil answers for them both. “I am, he’s not. That doesn’t matter right now. You need me to drop you off somewhere, I can do that. You don’t need to hurt us to get what you want.”</p>
<p>Gil hopes that his calm tone will dampen the panic coursing through Jason’s body. And Gil’s not even lying at this point. He has no doubt the man would be arrested soon, his only focus was getting out of this alive. A siren wails in the background as the ferry terminal creeps into view.</p>
<p>“I think you’re out of time, Jason. I’ll drop you off as close as I can to the terminal, and nobody has to know what happened here.”</p>
<p>“Shut up and head to the car park.” Jason barks.</p>
<p>Gil’s stomach flips with dread. The car park is a five minute walk away from the terminal. If Jason is asking him to drive there he has no intention of catching the ferry. Not sure what else he can do Gil crawls toward the car park as slow as he is able to, hoping to buy the NYPD some time to catch up to their location.  </p>
<p>The car park is about half full and Jason scans the cars with a practiced eye. “Stop here.” The Crown Vic slows and Jason leans over to Gil, jamming the tool into the soft tissue under his jaw and forcing his head up.</p>
<p>“You got cuffs, cop?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Give them to me.”</p>
<p>Gil opens the stud to his set of cuffs and balances them on one finger. Jason grabs them and slaps one on Gil’s wrist before either of them know what’s happening.</p>
<p>“Cuff yourself to the door, and hand me the keys and that radio.”</p>
<p>Gil obliges, his last hope of contacting anyone evaporating with it. The pressure under his jaw disappears, and he can breathe again. Jason grabs both of their confiscated phones and creaks the back door open, grabbing something in his backpack and heading for a gun metal grey Mazda Six. After a few moments the indicators flash on the car and the hijacker hops into the driver’s seat.</p>
<p>Malcolm’s breathing is shallow and ragged, and the profiler is unusually silent.</p>
<p>“You okay, Bright?” Gil asks, keeping his voice low.</p>
<p>“Just… thinking about running off to get some help.”</p>
<p>“Kid, you can barely handle sitting right now. Sit tight, we’ll get out of this.” Gil sounds far more reassuring than he feels.</p>
<p>“Mmm, okay.” Malcolm sounds relieved at the instruction. The kid was in a bad way if he wasn’t looking for some way to help.</p>
<p>The Mazda behind them roars to life and Jason returns to the Crown Vic. “Do I bring you with me, Malcolm? You sure are pretty to look at.”</p>
<p>Malcolm manages a weak self deprecating smile. “All I can offer you is some Twizzlers right now. I don’t think I’d be good company.”</p>
<p>Jason laughs and ruffles Malcolm’s hair. “Ah, you’re right. I’m more of a one man band anyway. Thanks for the ride.” Their captor slams the door and leans over towards the back of the car, then the front. The angle of the car banks slowly towards the right hand side, and Gil realises Jason has slashed both tires. Even if he could hot wire the car, he wouldn’t get very far with two flat tires. Gil desperately attempts to recalibrate his plan as the man pulls out of the parking lot.</p>
<p>He commits the licence plate to memory, figuring that’s a bonafide way he can help should any patrol cars arrive. As the sedan disappears Gil heaves a sigh of relief. They’re safe.</p>
<p>The siren wailing in the background rises by a few decibels, just as Malcolm’s eyes start to close. Gil calls out to keep him conscious.</p>
<p>“Bright, you hear that? Help is coming. Stay with me.”</p>
<p>Malcolm’s drowsy head lolls from one side to another as he places the direction of the voice talking to him. “Sure, yeah, good.”</p>
<p>The siren is deafening, and Gil has prime viewing of the patrol car as it screams into the parking lot. Two officers open their doors and point their guns at the car, screaming instructions to get out of the car. Neither of the men are in a position to do that.</p>
<p>“Sit tight kid, and don’t move.” Knowing how these traffic stops usually roll Gil doesn’t want to give anyone a reason to be trigger happy right now.</p>
<p>“Gotchya.” Malcolm answers weakly, in no condition to argue.</p>
<p>The shouting continues, and after a minute of no movement from the car both officers sprint for the car, aiming for the doors. Gil grips his NYPD badge tightly in his handcuffed hand and braces for his body to be pulled along with the door when they open it in a moment. Even though he’s expecting it, the movement is still jarring as his arm is pulled away from his body, the officer grabbing him around the middle and attempting to wrestle him onto the floor.</p>
<p>Both officers stop shouting as one man collapses onto the floor when the back door is opened, and the other hangs by his arm with an NYPD ID clamped in his handcuffed hand.</p>
<p>“What the hell?” one asks.</p>
<p>Ignoring the awkwardness of his position, Gil gets straight down to business. “Lieutenant Gil Arroyo, Major Crimes. We were the victims of a hijacking. Suspect drove off in a Silver Mazda licence plate AAA-5631 about three minutes ago.”</p>
<p>“Okay sir, let me call it in.”  The officer with Gil fishes out a pair of handcuff keys and hands them to Gil as he relays the new information to dispatch.</p>
<p>As Gil works the cuffs free he nods to the officer cradling Bright behind him. “Call a bus as well, my profiler took a screwdriver to the leg and lost a lot of blood.”</p>
<p>“You got it.”</p>
<p>As the officers relay the information to continue the chase Gil leans over next to Bright, shielding him from the midday sun. The ambulance isn’t close enough to hear yet, so Gil resumes his duty of keeping Bright awake until help arrives.</p>
<p>“So does this mean you’re gonna rethink your Twizzlers obsession, kid? They seem pretty hazardous to your health right now.” he jokes.</p>
<p>Malcolm manages a weak laugh, the smile on his face a relief from seeing it creased in pain. “The candy didn’t stab me Gil, I could never be mad at my favourite food.”</p>
<p>“You say that now, just wait until they throw your ass in a hospital.”</p>
<p>“Don’t worry Gil,” Malcolm whispers, patting his hip pocket where the candy from this morning lies, “I got all the snacks I need for the day.”</p>
<p>The kid’s snark brings a smile to his face, and breathes a sigh of relief as the ambulance siren makes itself known in the distance. Malcolm will get the help he needs, and Gil will keep him company as long as he can. He might even swipe one of the liquorice strands for himself, as he’s quite partial to them on the odd occasion. Black was also good.</p>
<p>Not that he’d ever admit that to Malcolm. He’d never hear the end of it.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>